<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>dream a little dream of me by Quiverquill</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26042140">dream a little dream of me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiverquill/pseuds/Quiverquill'>Quiverquill</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>#DimiclaudeBdayWeek2020, Assassination Attempt(s), Blood, Claude is called Khalid, Claude von Riegan Backstory, Dreams, Drowning, M/M, Poisoning, Pre-Canon, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Xenophobia, but with a twist, most of the time at least, the dmcl is strong in this one</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:54:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26042140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiverquill/pseuds/Quiverquill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Khalid was young, people have wanted him dead. It was because his mother was from Fódlan, he'd been told, a country on the other side of the Western Almyran border that Khalid had always wanted to visit. They were few in number, but some people acted on their murderous desires, trying to get Khalid killed. And though it didn't happen terribly often, sometimes Khalid was caught off guard.<br/>In the recesses of his dying brain, a repeating dream comes to him. It is of a boy from Fódlan, around his age. He is kind, sweet. He wants to be Khalid's friend. He says his name is Dimitri.</p><p>But the dream changes suddenly, when Khalid is fourteen years old, and Dimitri's world burns.</p><p>(Written for Day 7 of Dimiclaude Birthday Week: Dreams)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dream a little dream of me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I took the prompt way too literally this time, I don't think this is what they meant by 'dreams' as a prompt<br/>but it's ok! we're doing this<br/>Is this a soulmate AU?? I guess it basically is, in a world with no soulmates</p><p>Warnings for drowning, poisoning, blood, xenophobia, neglectful parenting (all surrounding a child too)</p><p>Hope you enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had always been made quite clear to him that Khalid was different from everyone else.</p><p>Kids would jeer at him. Grown-ups would sneer at him.</p><p>They said it was because his mother was from Fódlan. That she was a coward harlot, seducing the king out of his riches – that she wasn’t their true queen. That he would never be their prince.</p><p>He hadn’t quite understood what that meant, when he was young. It had taken a lot of very specific questions in order to wheedle the answers out of his parents, who were reluctant to tell him the truth even as he stood there, so small and alone, tears in his eyes from the sand thrown in them, bruises on his skin from the sharp stones he’d been pelted with.</p><p>The reasons for his ostracisation had been confusing to him, to say the least, but it hadn’t taken him long to learn how the world worked, not when everyone believed it was their civil duty to remind him why he didn’t belong here, or anywhere. Not when ignorance would get him killed.</p><p>The first time an attempt had been made on his life, he’d been seven. The cooks had made him a meal that he didn’t like, with <em> far </em>too many vegetables, and he’d whined and whinged that he didn’t want to eat it, like a spoiled brat. He’d taken one reluctant bite, but refused to eat anymore, and his mother had sent him to bed without dinner.</p><p>He didn’t wake up for three days.</p><p>He had a very strange dream while he was fighting death. Another boy came to him, and they were together in this place that Khalid had never seen before, an old round tower covered in ivy. It was nighttime, but it wasn’t very dark. The boy himself looked strange, something Khalid immediately felt guilty for thinking about someone else, though it was true that he’d never met anyone with features similar to his. His long hair was the colour of sun-bleached sand, his eyes were blue like the sky, and his skin… it looked like his mom’s, only it was even paler.</p><p>The boy looked equally confused about his presence, but Khalid’s curiosity was already spilling from his lips.</p><p>“Are you from Fódlan?” he asked, inching closer to the boy, forgoing any introduction.</p><p>The boy clearly hadn’t been expecting that question, blinking dumbly before answering. “I’m from Faerghus?” he replied. He didn’t sound incredibly sure of himself.</p><p>Khalid felt the smile fall from his face. “Oh. Where’s that?” The place sounded vaguely familiar, his mom must’ve mentioned it once.</p><p>The boy’s brow furrowed, and he took some time to answer. “...Fódlan.”</p><p>Khalid was on him in a second, grabbing his arms in excitement. “Really? You’re from Fódlan, really?!” The boy was nodding; his eyes were wide and his head was sinking into his shoulders. “That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to go to Fódlan!”</p><p>The Fódlan boy was funny, he always looked confused. “You want to go to Fódlan?”</p><p>Khalid didn’t know why he asked, didn’t he just say that he did? “Yeah, is it nice there?”</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“In Fódlan!”</p><p>“Um…” His blue eyes wandered for a moment to look around the tower they were in, before something seemed to click, and that confusion finally melted off of his face. “I don’t know much about Leicester or Adrestia, but Faerghus is nice.” Half of the words in that sentence glanced off of him, and Khalid itched to know what they meant.</p><p>"You have to tell me about it!"</p><p>The boy with golden hair regarded Khalid with wonder, and he was bashful in his response.</p><p>"What do you want to know?"</p><p>Questions came flying out of Khalid, and the boy answered all of them with an equal amount of eagerness, delighted to talk about his homeland. They talked for what felt like hours, but every answer Khalid was given only sprung up more questions, leaving him dying to know more.</p><p>The boy didn't have much to say about the other 'sections' of Fódlan he didn't live in, but he did tell Khalid about how cold it was in this ‘Far-guss’ place, and how ice would fall from the sky during the winter months, and how the night sky would be painted with bright colours that split the darkness in two. It sounded amazing, it sounded terrifying, Khalid needed to know more.</p><p>The conversation was put to an end, however, when a loud banging noise and an urgent shout sounded through the room, and Khalid's attention immediately sprung to the door of the stone tower they were settled in. The door was not open, though, and nothing in the tower had been moved.</p><p>But when Khalid looked back to the boy, he was gone.</p><p>It was as if he'd vanished into thin air. He was gone in less than a second, leaving no trace of his presence behind.</p><p>His heart was still thumping in his chest, the loud noise giving him a burst of adrenaline he hadn't been expecting. He called out to the empty room.</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p>There was silence, not even a breeze from the terrace. Khalid's voice cracked slightly with his next call.</p><p>"Where'd you go?"</p><p>The boy had been really nice to him. He'd told him loads of cool things, and he hadn't been mean to him or anything! He never even learned his name...</p><p>Khalid willed himself not to cry. What if the boy was simply hiding? It would be embarrassing if Khalid started crying over what was obviously just a game (as many others had told him previously). Resolve strengthening, he picked himself up off the floor from where he'd sat down, and tried opening the door to the tower. The effort was fruitless – the door was locked up tight. Turning away, he focused his attention on the stone terrace on the far side of the room, the night sky and stars twinkling at him behind it.</p><p>Trotting his way over, he looked through the little columns of the banister that was too tall for him to look over. From his viewpoint, the clouds stretched out beneath him as far as the eye could see, as if the land itself had turned to white cotton, and the night sky lay on top of it like icing to a sweet cake.</p><p>It was then that Khalid finally realised he was dreaming.</p><p>The fantastical sight had stuck something in his brain, and suddenly everything felt <em> wrong. </em>When Khalid blinked, his eyes glued themselves shut, and it took great effort for them to open once more, a blinding green light flashing behind his eyelids.</p><p>When he did manage to pry them open, he found himself in his bed in the middle of the night. His mother was asleep in a chair beside him. There was a knife in her lap.</p><p>He grew up pretty quickly after that.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>It was another while yet before the boy from Fódlan visited his dreams once more.</p><p>He'd gotten older in that time, enough so that he finally understood what his parents meant when they said he had to 'stand up for himself.' He initially believed that they were telling him to stand his ground, call out those who harassed him and speak his mind.</p><p>That hadn't gone well.</p><p>His parents had been telling him to push back, but he knew he wouldn't conventionally be able to do that in a more traditional sense. So he learned how to play the game, and kept his cards close to his chest. </p><p>When he was being chased through the city streets, he would hide atop the ceiling beams within the local pig sty, in which the large animals were known to be particularly vicious. He didn't struggle when his head was shoved underwater, having already practised holding his breath for long periods of time, as well as playing off a state of unconsciousness.</p><p>Many people believed he was dead, and Khalid made it his business to feed into that rumour mill. He stopped giving out his name, wore dirty, unrevealing clothing, and hid away from public view. Not everyone believed these rumours, but it was enough that Khalid felt he could walk the streets again among strangers without fearing for his life (much).</p><p>He still wasn't safe here, and his longing to escape to Fódlan only grew stronger with each passing day.</p><p>That dream he had… of the boy with the sand coloured hair. It'd been over a year (or was it two?) since he'd had it, and yet he could remember most of the details so clearly, only the ending becoming hazy. He'd been pretty upset when he'd awoken – not only was the nice friendly person a mere object of his imagination, but everything that he'd learned about Fódlan was nothing but a fairytale. It was certainly grieving to find out that even his own mind could be cruel to him.</p><p>Regardless of whether or not it was real, however, Khalid couldn’t help but picture the unfamiliar land as how the boy had described it; rich farmland and lush forestry eventually giving way to fields of ice and diamond rivers, strange coloured lights that would dance across the sky alongside the stars, and people who were gracious and honorable, warm despite the freezing temperatures. That’s what the boy had told him, anyway.</p><p>It really did sound like a fairytale.</p><p>Would the people of Fódlan accept him, if he fled there for sanctuary? Would they recognise his Reigan blood, and welcome him as one of their own? The boy had made it sound like they would.</p><p>The people that wanted Khalid dead were not defeated by one failed assassination attempt, nor by a second. It was only by the favour of Lady Luck that he’d survived the first one, and he wasn’t willing to rely on her for another.</p><p>He’d been building up his resistance to many kinds of poisons for some time now, the process itself quite arduous and difficult to perfect, having to mix non-lethal doses that were strong enough to have an effect on him. If he did it right, then he only experienced symptoms of strong discomfort and nausea. If he messed it up, though…</p><p>Well, he still wasn’t dead, at least.</p><p>He wasn’t dumb, either – however young he was, he’d experienced the pain of being poisoned with the intent to kill. He knew what he was getting into, when he tried building an immunity to some of the deadliest poisons known to Almyra. He <em> never </em> overdid it to the point where he was immobilised; the walls had ears, and rumours flew faster around the Almyran court than a wyvern with its tail on fire. If people were to discover he was vulnerable, they’d take advantage of it.</p><p>That applied to every aspect of life.</p><p>Still, Khalid had only been trying to build his immunities for so long, and with such a wide array of poisons to choose from, it was difficult to develop a resistance to all of them at the same time, and quick enough to prevent another… incident.</p><p>If he was considered ‘lucky’ to have survived the first assassination attempt, the second time was apparently a near miracle.</p><p>“A-are you alright?”</p><p>Khalid shot up like a startled deer from where he lay in a puddle on the stone floor, narrowly missing colliding foreheads with his company. Thankfully, they jerked out of the way with lightning fast reflexes, landing unceremoniously on their backside as Khalid took in his surroundings.</p><p>That long sandy hair, those sky blue eyes – it was the same boy from Fódlan. And in the same old tower, too.</p><p>“It’s you again,” Khalid stated. That was strange. Was it normal to have the same dream more than once? And to be entirely aware that you were dreaming even while you were still asleep? This had never happened to him before. His hair also felt uncomfortably wet, sending a small chill down his spine. That was strange, as well, but he supposed dreams were known for their strange, unexplained happenings.</p><p>Contemplating as he was, Khalid completely missed the boy’s face becoming more and more anxious as time wore on.</p><p>“Yeah…” the boy replied to him. “A-are you sure you’re alright?”</p><p>Khalid frowned. His hair was dripping onto his clothes, but otherwise was perfectly fine here in this dream, he knew that. Surely this boy – an extension of the dream born from his own brain – knew that, too. So why act so worried?</p><p>"I'm fine," he said, regarding the boy curiously. He still seemed perturbed. Perhaps his own subconscious was trying to tell him something? "Why'd you ask? Is something wrong?"</p><p>"W-well…" The boy looked slightly embarrassed. "When I got here, there was– I mean, you had– y-you were asleep, a-and you wouldn't wake up."</p><p>His uncomfortable face struck a chord somewhere in Khalid, and a smile stretched across his face, unbidden, in an effort to make him feel better. He lifted up his hands, holding them in the air between them.</p><p>"I'm awake now, though. See?" He waved his hands in front of him, the boy watching them closely. "All good."</p><p>The boy seemed transfixed by his hands, his blue eyes following their movements back and forth like a flower swaying with the breeze.</p><p>“...Good?” he whispered, seemingly to himself.</p><p>“Um, yeah.” Khalid wiggled his fingers just for show. “Just dandy–”</p><p>The boy grabbed his hands.</p><p>Self-preservation made Khalid’s heart jump into his throat, but otherwise his survival instincts failed him and all other bodily functions froze completely. That seemed to be for the best, anyway; it took him more than a few panicked moments to realise that the boy did not mean him any harm at all, and was just sitting there, staring in awe at their conjoined hands while Khalid focused on trying to remember how to breathe.</p><p>Their fingers had interlocked together, and the back of Khalid’s melted mind marveled at just how <em> pale </em>the boy was (he looked kinda sick), while the rest of it could only appreciate how warm his hands felt when pressed against his own. The grip was slick as if one of them had wet hands, which was probably Khalid. It’d been so long since a stranger had touched him without the intention of hurting him in some way, even longer for it to have been someone his own age.</p><p>Relief seemed to wash over the boy after a while, blissfully ignorant of Khalid’s thought process. “Good… so, you’re not going to disappear?”</p><p>It took Khalid an embarrassingly long time to comprehend the words. “Uh… no? I don’t think so, anyway. Why…?”</p><p>“Oh, it’s just–” the boy looked sheepish, shaking his head like the thought was foolish– “you were– um, before, when you were asleep, you… it was almost like…”</p><p>Khalid raised his eyebrows appraisingly when the boy grew silent, encouraging him to continue without words. The boy looked away, though he didn’t drop their hands.</p><p>“...you were green and glowing, l-like a ghost.”</p><p>Khalid felt his eyes widen. Glowing green? A <em> ghost? </em>This dream was much more strange the second time around than it was the first.</p><p>“I’m not a ghost,” was all Khalid could think to say, his mouth moving before his brain caught up.</p><p>The boy winced at his answer, dropping his hands, and Khalid immediately wanted to kick himself. “I-I know that now, sorry to bother you, Mister…”</p><p>‘Mister?!’ He was still a kid! Why was he calling him ‘<em>mister?’</em> “Um, it’s Khalid. Just Khalid, please,” and as an afterthought, “sir.” Okay, it was a little funny to see him blush and panic like that.</p><p>“Oh, no!” The boy was shaking his head fervently, bowing to him at the same time, making for quite the odd sight as his long hair waved to and fro. “No, you don’t have to call me that, you are my equal! If anything, I am below you, to t-trespass here, where you live–”</p><p>“I don’t live here,” Khalid cut him off before he made any more strange proclamations. “In this old tower? There isn’t even a bed in here!” The boy looked like he was going to reply, but Khalid continued in an effort to gain some semblance of control over the situation. He brushed his wet hair out of his face. “I’ve no clue where we are. But y’know, if I tell you my name, you’re supposed to tell me your name, too.”</p><p>The boy balked immediately, his face becoming even paler (seriously, was he sick?) as he sat backwards, giving Khalid a bit more space. He started muttering to himself, seemingly reciting something, and patting himself on the cheeks as he tried to remember it all.</p><p>Khalid watched curiously as the boy gave him a sweeping bow before straightening once more, a look of determination settling uncomfortably on his face. He spoke slowly, his voice pitched like he was reciting a mantra for the hundredth time.</p><p>“I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Son of Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd, Descendant of the Mighty Loog, King of Lions, first of his name, and Crown Prince of Faerghus– I mean, t-the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.”</p><p>...Khalid’s mind really did have a fondness for playing cruel jokes on him.</p><p>“A prince, huh?” He knew his voice didn’t sound as chipper as it should, but it seemed the boy didn’t notice. “What’s it like being a prince of Fódlan?”</p><p>Dimitri – finally, the Fódlan boy had a <em> name </em> – was quick to downplay his obviously high status, but that didn’t stop him from gushing about all of his friends, and about all of the adults that treated him with great care and attention. He spoke of them with such a wide smile on his face, that was so warm, so open, and so, so friendly.</p><p>He had several close friends (one in training to be his personal bodyguard), no siblings or similar relatives to regard him as an obstacle, knights shadowing his every move to protect him if he was in danger, a populace that doted upon him…</p><p>So, that’s what it was like to be a prince of Fódlan.</p><p>Would Khalid have been treated the same, if he had been born there? He didn’t know.</p><p>This was just a dream, though. A silly, pointless, <em> stupid </em>dream. Everything that he was learning simply wasn’t true. It was all a fabrication of his brain’s design. So why make friends with this Fódlan prince that didn’t exist?</p><p>It was… nice, talking to Dimitri.</p><p>Khalid found himself moving the topic away from Dimitri’s princely status and towards Fódlan as a whole, asking about those sections outside of ‘Far-guss’ that the prince hadn’t been able to talk about when they’d first met. Sure enough, Dimitri had more to say now, and time whittled away into nothing once more.</p><p>It was nice to talk about Fódlan, nice to imagine a future where Khalid could live there, with Mom and Dad and Nader too, where he’d be safe and loved. Did he have family in Fódlan? Grandparents? He didn’t remember his Almyran nana that well, but she had been kind to him; she died when he was young, and he never met his granddad. Did he have a grandmother in Fódlan? Would she have those really nice spiced sweets his nana used to make? The kind you could melt into your milk if you wanted to, to make it taste sweeter? His mouth watered at the memory. He hadn’t had one of those in <em> so long, </em>mostly because he never trusted anyone but his nana to make them.</p><p>“And what’s it like where you live? I-if you don’t mind me asking.”</p><p>Khalid was abruptly ejected from his thoughts by the overly polite question (seriously, prince or not, Dimitri did <em> not </em> sound like a kid half the time). He hadn’t noticed that he’d slightly tuned out the other boy until now, but he’d caught his undivided attention once again.</p><p>“Me?” he asked. Dimitri nodded. “Um, what do you wanna know?”</p><p>Dimitri seemed just as lost on what to ask as he was on what to tell him. “Is it… nice? Where you live?”</p><p>“I… guess so,” Khalid replied as honestly as he could. “It’s really hot most of the time, and we don’t get a winter like you do.” Dimitri’s blue eyes were wide with fascination, and he gasped quietly to himself. “I don’t mind it, though. I don’t like the cold that much. Plus when it gets <em> really </em> hot, that’s when we have the festivals.”</p><p>“Festivals?” The prince was leaning forward, eager to know more. His eyes were sparkling– was learning about Almyra really that interesting?</p><p>“Yeah. Do you not have those?”</p><p>“Not in the summertime!” the prince responded. “What’s it like?”</p><p>Dimitri’s excitement was catching on him slightly. The feasts <em> were </em> pretty cool, after all. It was normally around the time of his birthday, and it was one of the few times of the year where he felt his blood didn’t matter when he danced with everyone there. “Well, we light a big bonfire at nighttime, when it’s colder, and there’s dancing and loads of food! The feasts last for a week or so– they say it’s to celebrate the strength of those who return home from battle.”</p><p>“A <em> week?” </em>Dimitri gaped at him, and Khalid’s chest warmed with pride. Odd, he’d never felt like this before.</p><p>“Yeah! Feasts normally last at least a few days where I’m from, they’re kind of a big deal.”</p><p>Dimitri looked pensive, leaning forward even more, his eyes wide and his voice quiet like he was begging for a secret.</p><p>“But… w-where <em> are </em> you from, exactly–”</p><p>
  <em> “Khalid! Can you hear me?!” </em>
</p><p>Dimitri’s face blurred suddenly as Khalid’s world washed away with a flash of green, colours swirling together with no rhyme or rhythm, before his head finally broke through the surface of the chaos as he gasped for air. The roar of rushing water was deafening in his ears, and his survival instinct flared into action, his legs kicking and treading water as he struggled to stay afloat.</p><p>Khalid had been thrown in the river.</p><p>Water pooled in his mouth as he coughed and spluttered, trying to haul air into his lungs. His panicked mind vaguely recognised the rapids he’d been thrown in, notorious for their lethal speed and the sharp rocks that were dotted along their path. A dull pain in his side told him that he’d probably already hit a rock while unconscious.</p><p>It was impossible to swim against this tide, the sheer force of the river shoving his tiny arms close to his body. His chest and throat burned like fire, not at all soothed by the cool liquid that ran through them, his lungs spasming as they filled with water.</p><p>He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fight it, he was going to <em> drown! </em></p><p>"HELP!” he screamed, terror ripping through his throat.</p><p>“Grab on, kiddo!”</p><p>The handle of a large battle-axe was dangled above the surface a little further down the river, the current hurling Khalid towards it at a dizzying speed. Blindly, Khalid reached skywards, his arms smacking off the steel pole before he clawed at it desperately, coughing and hacking, clinging for dear life while his lower body was yanked incessantly by the current.</p><p>The axe was tugged towards shore, and for a terrifying moment his grip on the handle slipped due under his wet hands before he kicked forward, grasping at the end of it as the momentum hauled him out of the water and threw him unceremoniously upon the rocky shore.</p><p>He hacked and heaved the moment he hit solid ground, the rest of the water ejecting from his lungs and wetting the rock underneath him. He collapsed onto the ground once he could breathe once more.</p><p>Sane thought came back to him slowly as panic still fizzled through his mind. His chest hurt. His throat hurt. His side was starting to hurt. Everything hurt.</p><p>Why did this have to happen to him? Why couldn't he have been born in Fódlan?</p><p>Why couldn't he be normal?</p><p>Strong arms gently lifted him off the ground and wrapped around him, shielding him from the outside world.</p><p>"Hey, you're alright now, kiddo," he heard Nader say, and a large hand patted the top of his head, "you're okay. Got a fright, did ya?"</p><p>His sight was blurry, and for a heart-stopping second he thought he was underwater again. It was only when a thumb twice the size of his nose wiped at his cheeks did he realise that he was crying.</p><p>And just like that, a dam broke somewhere behind his eyes, and he wailed for the loss of what could've been.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>It was many years later when Dimitri entered his dreams once more.</p><p>Khalid was due to turn fifteen in three months time, but he certainly felt much older. There'd been no shortage of attempts on his life over the years, but Khalid had vowed to never allow himself to be caught off guard ever again.</p><p>Nader had told his parents what had happened when he was nine. <em> "Clumsy little lad fell in the river," </em>he'd told them, but even so, his mother had gifted him with his own dagger for his tenth birthday.</p><p>That dagger was near to him at all times. When he was awake, it was in his boot, as he'd stopped wearing sandals. Asleep, it was hidden under his pillow, with one hand gripping the handle.</p><p>He still dreamed of seeing Fódlan.</p><p>His childish wish of leaving Almyra had changed over the years. The land was his home, and as he became better suited to protecting himself against the darker side of this place, so too did he learn to see the brighter side of his culture.</p><p>Khalid wasn't sure what he wanted now.</p><p>When he was younger it had all seemed so clear: escape this wicked place and live in Fódlan with his extended family. But now…</p><p>He'd miss Almyra, if he left. From the bare minimum his mother told him, he learned that the culture of Fódlan was unique to the land. He didn't know much about it, besides the fact that the people, the climate, the clothes, the food, the language, and just about everything else you could think of were just… different, in some way.</p><p>Life wouldn’t be the same there. Not only would the bad parts change, but the good parts, too. And Khalid wasn’t naive enough to believe that Fódlan’s society didn’t have its own fair share of problems.</p><p>Khalid didn’t believe that the people of Fódlan were cowards. After all, his mother was perhaps the bravest person he knew. However, he still didn’t know much about them. His lifelong dream of being accepted and welcomed into a society would be worthless to him if that society was just as awful as Fódlan was rumoured to be. And he couldn’t exactly advocate for the people of Fódlan when his mother was the only person from beyond the border that he’d met. She was a strong, kind woman with a good heart, but could she be the exception? She’d never told him otherwise, choosing not to speak of her homeland very much at all. The lack of information tore at him every day.</p><p>But he supposed… he had met one other person from Fódlan.</p><p>No, that was foolish. Dimitri was an hallucination born from a dying brain. No matter how present, how warm, how <em> real </em>he’d felt, he was nothing more than a figment of Khalid’s imagination, and did not count as an actual citizen of Fódlan.</p><p>Still, the boy prince had been so kind in his dreams, and it had left an impression on him. It was entirely irrational, but Khalid couldn’t help but have hope for the integrity of the neighbouring country after speaking with Dimitri.</p><p>He hadn’t seen the boy in so long, probably because he hadn’t been poisoned or mortally wounded or any such thing along those lines. Knowing now that Dimitri was essentially an omen of incoming death, Khalid considered that he should be happy that he hadn't seen him since he was nine, but he found that he missed the prince, regardless. He’d be hard pressed to find a friendly face his own age in Almyra, and there was something about Dimitri that was just so endearing to him.</p><p>So, naturally, he’d felt quite torn when Dimitri visited him once more.</p><p>When Khalid arrived at that same old tower, there were several things that struck him as odd, different from the other two times he’d dreamed of this place. </p><p>Firstly, he knew he was dreaming immediately, like before, but he could also remember exactly what he’d been doing before coming here; it was the middle of spring, perhaps the most comfortable time of year in Almyra, weather wise, and he was asleep in his bedroom without windows. His door was locked and rigged with his own inventive traps. His knife was under his pillow, as always.</p><p>Secondly, the door to the old tower was wide open. The entranceway was not dissimilar to a gaping maw in the wall, cold air drifting in through the black doorway, which was impossible to see beyond. The draft from it was absolutely freezing, and Khalid couldn’t suppress a shiver.</p><p>And lastly, Dimitri was collapsed in a heap on the stone floor.</p><p>Thoughts of the possible danger were thrown from his mind as Khalid shot forward, sliding to his knees beside the prince. There was blood everywhere, slick on the floor and matted into sandy hair, but upon Dimitri himself there was not a single wound that he could see.</p><p>Khalid grabbed the prince’s shoulders and shook him, his body burning to the touch.</p><p>“<em> Dimitri! </em> Dimitri, wake up, please!”</p><p>The prince was unresponsive, and Khalid felt his stomach drop like a stone. What was he going to do?! He needed to find help, he had to wake Dimitri up, he <em> had </em> to, or–!</p><p>Or what?</p><p>Underneath his primal survival instinct, the rational side of Khalid’s mind stirred. Why was he afraid? Dimitri wasn’t a real person. Nothing in this dream was real. Staying here could threaten Khalid’s own safety, and the right thing to do would be to leave. Right now.</p><p>The thought of leaving Dimitri made Khalid’s heart shriek with terror. <em> Wrong! </em> it screamed at him. <em> You’re wrong! You can’t leave him, he’ll die! </em></p><p>Why did that matter? The prince was nothing but a bad omen. To try and save him would be pointless, and it would put his own life in jeopardy!</p><p>“Dimitri, c’mon, wake up! Please!”</p><p>
  <em> But he talked to you– listened to you! He’s real! He’s your friend! </em>
</p><p>He <em> wasn’t </em> real, this was just a nightmare! Khalid was letting his mind play its cruel tricks on him, and it was going to get him killed if he didn’t wake up <em> now! </em></p><p>
  <em> NO! </em>
</p><p><em> “No! </em> Dimitri, <em> please, </em>wake up!”</p><p>A weak groan sounded through the cold air.</p><p>Khalid’s mind and heart both stopped working entirely when the prince stirred in his arms, his head just barely lifting off of the bloodied floor. Relief tinged with slight hysteria flooded through his chest when Dimitri’s eyes opened, but the heavy stone of anxiety in his stomach was not lifted at the sight.</p><p>The prince’s normally vibrant blue eyes were dull and empty, as if his very soul had left his body. His normally pale skin was flushed scarlet, like he was sick with fever, and his body was scorching hot.</p><p>“Dimitri,” Khalid breathed, “you’re awake!”</p><p>The prince blinked slowly, his eyes nearly gluing shut once more. <em> “K-Khalid…” </em> he rasped. His voice sounded dreadful, like he was choking. Was he truly ill? If that was just the case, then why was he covered in blood? <em> “W-what happened? I d-don’t remember…” </em></p><p>The prince’s question niggled at something in Khalid’s brain. That information was crucial, his gut told him, but why?</p><p>“I don’t know,” Khalid told him honestly, “but it’s gonna be okay, Dimitri. Are you hurt at all?”</p><p><em> “I… n-no…” </em> The prince looked lost. <em> “I think I’m… f-forgetting something… s-something important…” </em></p><p>It was strange. Dimitri's wheezy voice sounded like it should hurt to even breathe, but the prince didn’t look like he was in pain, drenched in blood though he was. He didn’t wince once, but he was weak, and probably couldn’t move very much.</p><p>Before Khalid could think of a reply, Dimitri’s pupils dilated suddenly, and his empty eyes turned to the open doorway. A rush of freezing air wafted in as they looked at it, and the blackness seemed to writhe in place, as if it was alive. Khalid’s chest seized with terror.</p><p>Dimitri shifted towards it, as if compelled to drown in it.</p><p>Khalid’s arms instinctively tightened around the prince’s body. <em> “Don’t,” </em> he hissed in his ear, as if the darkness would hear him otherwise. “Don’t go in there, Dimitri!”</p><p>The prince blinked, before looking at Khalid confusedly, like he just remembered he was there. <em> “I w-won’t,” </em> he choked back. <em> “I-I don’t want to…” </em></p><p>At his words, the door flung itself shut with a resounding bang.</p><p>Both of them jumped at the loud noise, Dimitri’s arms snaking around Khalid’s waist as they clung to each other in fear. Dimitri’s body suddenly felt much heavier in his arms, as if invisible strings had been cut, grounding him and making him feel much less liable to float away from Khalid’s grasp. He could feel the other boy’s pounding heartbeat where he was pressed against his body.</p><p>Khalid’s own heart thudded loudly in his chest, his shaky breaths rattling through his ribcage. His instincts were tearing at his brain. It was obvious to him that some unknown circumstance of imminent doom had been avoided, but his gut told him that that came with its own consequences.</p><p>It was dangerous to stay here, but Khalid couldn’t abandon the prince that clung to him so tightly.</p><p>With the door closed, the freezing draft disappeared, and a sweltering heat slowly filled the room. He was used to such heat, but in his arms, he heard Dimitri’s wheezes grow heavier, the sound akin to a dog that had been left out in the sun for too long.</p><p>Khalid eyed the prince beneath him. He was sweating bullets, and his tongue was practically lolling out of his mouth. “Dimitri?” he called out to him carefully. “Are you feeling alright?”</p><p>The prince clearly wasn’t feeling ‘alright.’ <em> “S’hot,” </em> he wheezed, his matted hair sticking to his flushed face, <em> “so hot.” </em></p><p>Khalid hummed. The prince still looked feverish, and wafts of uncomfortable warmth came off the boy in waves. Was it possible for someone’s own body heat to be the source of the humidity in this tower? Lifting a hand, he pressed his palm against Dimitri’s forehead–</p><p><em> “Ow!” </em> Khalid yelped, his hand flinching away from the prince’s face. Dimitri’s flesh was searing hot <em> , </em> like metal fresh out of the blacksmith’s forge. “Wha– your skin is <em> burning, </em>Dimitri!”</p><p>Dimitri’s eyes were losing their focus. <em> “I… I don’t…” </em></p><p>Pulling back, Khalid loosened his grip on the prince to see his form entirely, revulsion congealing like hot bile in his throat. The blood that had been splattered all over his body sizzled and spat like the grease of a particularly fatty slab of meat on a grill. Thin, white plumes of smoke rose from his clothes, curling through the air like… like–</p><p>Was Dimitri being cooked alive?!</p><p>The prince groaned, weak and feeble – how was he still <em> alive? </em>Perhaps it was the effects of this dreamworld that allowed Dimitri to withstand such hellish temperatures, but Khalid somehow knew he wouldn’t last long – as his scorching hands tugged pathetically at Khalid’s clothes.</p><p><em> “I’m… tired…” </em> Dimitri whispered, <em> “they’re all… w-waiting for me…” </em></p><p>The tower door rattled within its frame.</p><p>“No, Dimitri!” Khalid urged, shaking the prince gently as he could in his urgency. It succeeded in making the boy look at him, but Khalid doubted that those dull eyes were truly <em> seeing </em> him. “You can’t fall asleep, you need to stay awake!”</p><p>Dimitri’s next words gave him pause.</p><p>
  <em> “But, I-I’m already… asleep…” </em>
</p><p>The back of Khalid’s mind sparked once more. “What do you mean by that?” he asked the prince slowly.</p><p>Dimitri looked contrite, his eyes remorseful despite their emptiness. <em> “This isn’t r-real… I’m just… dreaming…” </em></p><p>What?</p><p>No… <em> Khalid </em>was the one dreaming. Dimitri was the one that wasn’t real! Was his mind trying to make him doubt his own humanity?</p><p><em> He’s real! </em> his heart screamed at him. <em> He’s your friend! </em></p><p>That couldn’t be possible. His mind had fabricated Dimitri when he was a child, a strange illusion caused by the bodily shock of being poisoned, to pander to his dreams of meeting someone from Fódlan. To see the foreign prince was an omen for disaster, a sure sign that Khalid was in danger of dying.</p><p><em> But </em> you’re <em> not dying, Dimitri is! He’s the one in danger! </em></p><p>“Dimitri,” he called out to the other boy compulsively, his rationality failing him, “you need to wake up.”</p><p>The prince’s shoulders sank, his posture gaining a defeated impression alongside his weariness. <em> “I...” </em> he rasped, <em> “I d-don’t know how…” </em></p><p>“You have to <em> try, </em>at least!” Khalid pushed back, both of them shocked by the fierce tone of his voice. Why was he becoming so assertive? This shouldn’t matter to him, to believe that this would help anything didn’t make any logical sense – but it seemed his heart was taking the lead. “You can’t stay here, it’s too dangerous!”</p><p>Dimitri’s eyes were wide, staring at Khalid as if he were some kind of ethereal being. <em> “But… I-I can’t–” </em></p><p>“You can!” he snapped, holding the prince’s face in his hands despite the flaming heat that burned his palms. He flinched at the pain, but didn’t dare let go. “You must! You need to survive– <em> I </em>need you to survive!”</p><p>Dimitri stared back at him in awe, touching Khalid’s hands where they were pressed against his face. Khalid barely suppressed a wince at the prolonged agony of holding something so hot, thankful for the calluses on his palms, though there was nothing to protect him from Dimitri’s scorching fingers that brushed confusedly against the back of his hands.</p><p>The prince looked apprehensive, those big blue eyes filled with fear. <em> “What… will happen… once I…?” </em></p><p>“I don’t know,” Khalid replied, his tone softer yet strong still, “but you can push through, Dimitri. You’ll be okay, I know you will.” After all, though he didn’t say it aloud, if weak little Khalid could survive all this time, who's to say that Dimitri couldn’t?</p><p>Though he still seemed shaken and scared, strength returned to Dimitri's weak body at his words, and resolve painted his expression. The prince stroked Khalid’s hands, missing a wince flash across his face as he had closed his eyes, and he breathed deeply.</p><p><em> “Thank you, Khalid,” </em> Dimitri coughed out, his voice stronger yet no less rugged than before, <em> “I’m ready now.” </em></p><p>Khalid closed his own eyes in tandem, moving to press the prince’s burning forehead against his own. “Stay safe, Dimitri.”</p><p>Then he opened his eyes.</p><p>Khalid was in bed. His bedroom was silent, unmoved. His dagger was still under his pillow.</p><p>There were minor burns on his hands.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Across a continent, a small village turned to ash.</p><p>A lone, veteran knight sifted through the burning rubble.</p><p>Bodies littered the red ground. The knight weeped at the sight of familiar faces.</p><p>All were dead, except for one.</p><p>
  <em> “H… elp…” </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>A few years later, Khalid’s childhood dream came true.</p><p>A letter travelled across the border, arriving in the Almyran capital. It was addressed to one Tiana von Reigan. Whether the consignor of the letter was unaware of his mother’s current surname, or simply did not wish to acknowledge that she’d changed it, Khalid did not know. Either way, its contents were kept entirely classified to his mother, and perhaps his father as well, but Khalid and the rest of the Almyran court was left in the dark.</p><p>That is, until Khalid broke into his parents’ private chambers and stole the letter.</p><p>His mother had not burned it, so Khalid decided to take that as <em> Mom’s special way </em> of giving him permission to read it.</p><p>A few months later, Khalid set sail with a crew of Alliance tea traders and was shipped off to Derdriu alongside the rest of the ‘exotic’ Almyran goods.</p><p>Fódlan had surprised him. In a bad way.</p><p>The people weren’t cowards, not like he’d been told. They weren’t even that rude or self-centred either, so long as he didn’t tell them where he came from.</p><p>The house of Reigan knew where he came from.</p><p>His grandfather had told him he was to be renamed as ‘Claude von Reigan’ from now on. His boyish, dreaming heart felt betrayed, hurt that his own family that he’d wanted to meet for years was seemingly embarrassed of his heritage. His mind knew that the moniker was necessary, and frankly a blessing.</p><p>He would not be considered viable by the rest of the Alliance to become their leader if they learned that he was Almyran. But as well as that, Khalid – or rather <em> Claude </em> now, that would take some getting used to – would not be welcome in Fódlan if people learned where he came from. His life would be the same as before; he’d be hated, ostracized, <em> alone </em>…</p><p>But was it truly worth it, to live a good life, only to abandon himself in exchange? To be ashamed of who he was? To hide behind secrecy forevermore? He didn’t believe so.</p><p>For now, living as Claude would suffice. But for the future–</p><p>Well, he had a new dream now. Much bigger than before, more selfless in theory. And, hopefully, it would make his parents proud, one day.</p><p>“Wake up, boy!”</p><p>A hand swiped across the back of his head, abruptly (and kinda painfully) snapping him out of his reverie. </p><p>“Hey!” Claude whined, rubbing the back of his head. “That was uncalled for!”</p><p>“Don’t talk back to me, boy,” Lady Judith grouched beside him, leering over his shoulder where he sat in front of a multitude of dusty tomes that were spread out across an equally dusty table. “It’s up to me to decide what is and isn’t called for, and <em> you </em>were daydreaming. Again.”</p><p>“Can’t really blame me, can you?” he shot back lightly. “It’s not my fault that all of these books are practically the same thing written a thousand times over. <em> ‘The Goddess is great, She is Almighty, I want Her autograph,’ </em>yeah, yeah. When can we get to the good stuff?”</p><p>Another smack to the back of his head shut him up.</p><p>“You’re not supposed to talk about the Goddess like that, idiot boy,” Judith scolded him, “so get out of the habit. The Church will lynch you if you don’t shut that mouth of yours at the Officer’s Academy!”</p><p>“Alright, alright, I get it, please stop hitting me!” He leaned back in his chair, hoping to be able to look the Hero of Daphnel in the eye (not that he knew exactly why she was called that). Her glare was cold enough to freeze even the fields of Ailell, but Claude wasn’t deterred. She clearly loved him, like, obviously. Enough to not kill him. “But don’t you think I’ve read enough books about the Church?” he asked her. “Don’t get me wrong, I know the faith is a big deal, but the Officer’s Academy is a big deal too, right? All the important people enroll there. Shouldn’t I know about these important people…?”</p><p>Judith seemed to mull over his words for a second, if a bit reluctantly. “I... suppose there’s some truth to that.” Claude almost grinned her before he caught himself, knowing that would only get him into hot water. “You will be attending the Academy alongside the other future leaders of Fódlan, after all, so you’d best learn everything you can about them.”</p><p>Claude suddenly found it quite difficult to breathe. A memory sparked at the back of his brain.</p><p>A smile stretched across his face, as fake as ever. “Great! Got any files on them?”</p><p>Judith padded away to the corner of the room, pulling out two rolls of parchment from an otherwise innocent looking drawer. “They’re not up to date,” she informed him, dropping the discoloured files on top of the books, “but they’ll do for now. A lot of things have happened since they were written– you’ll need to follow spoken reports to know everything.”</p><p>If Claude was supposed to be living in the same building with these people, and later rule a country with these people, then he had every intention of listening in on the floating seeds of information that drifted through every part of life.</p><p>But at that moment, for once in his life, Claude was not concerned with rumours.</p><p>Doing his best to prevent his hand from shaking, he unfurled one of the rolls, his apprehension only spiking at the profile of one <em> Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg </em>of the Adrestian Empire. He did his best to read it quickly yet thoroughly, knowing Judith was watching him over his shoulder, and set it down on the table when finished.</p><p>Claude picked up the other file.</p><p>His heart was going a mile a minute. What was he expecting to see? He knew it was foolish of him to get so worked up, but he’d pushed it to the back of his mind for so long – ignored how the information he’d assumed was false continued to be validated so perfectly, disregarded the damning evidence of the burns (healed by now) that had been left on his hands – but now it occupied his mind entirely and absolutely, at a time where he should be monitoring his emotions, and focus on the task at hand.</p><p>As he opened it, however, he could no longer bring himself to care.</p><p>For there on the parchment sat the words that he’d been both dreading and hoping to see, scrawled across the top of the page in dark blue ink.</p><p>
  <em> Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He was so beautiful.</p><p>Hair like the sun-bleached sands of the Almyran coast, cut short in the years that he’d been gone. Eyes akin to the deep blue sky on a tropical summer’s day. Pale skin that had once seemed so strange, so otherworldly, that was now commonplace when placed beside the rest of the people of Fódlan.</p><p>Claude wondered if the day would come when his heart finally stopped, overwhelmed by the presence of the literal man of his dreams.</p><p>He was lucky that the prince was so oblivious to the tension between them, being so awkwardly proper. But Dimitri had no reason to suspect that Claude had an underlying fondness for him, hidden beneath that easygoing persona and finely honed smile.</p><p>After all, the prince had never met Claude von Reigan before coming to the monastery.</p><p>Claude had been positively astounded when Dimitri continued to have no idea who he was. It had been months. They’d talked together, trained together, eaten together, <em> had tea </em>together (which, Claude learned, was apparently the Fódlan way of feasting with someone, just more personally as it was one-on-one. Though normally he’d consider it impractical, Claude had to admit that the pastime had its perks), and yet the prince still acted as if he knew nothing about the ‘mysterious leader of the Golden Deer.’</p><p>Surprising no one, least of all himself, Claude was skeptical. There was no way that Dimitri didn’t have at least an inkling as to who he was, and honestly, Claude could relate. There’d been a time that he’d refused to believe that the prince was real, as well. He’d changed his mind when presented with irrefutable evidence, but Dimtiri still refused to acknowledge his existence, even as he stood right in front of him!</p><p>Perhaps it was for the best, though. Meeting the prince at the monastery had been an anxious affair– he’d been terrified that Dimitri would reveal him as an outsider to all of Fódlan, but the pain of not being recognised had almost been just as bad. That was a ridiculous thought, however; to be caught faking his identity in front of several of the most powerful people in the entire country would certainly be worse.</p><p>And… Dimitri had changed, since he’d seen him last. He was older, and that childhood innocence was gone. There was something dangerous hidden in the depths of those familiar eyes, something that hadn’t been there before.</p><p>How would he react, if he realised who Claude really was? Would he still consider him a friend, as Claude’s heart believed the prince to be? Or would he be angry, curse him for his lies and throw him to the dogs?</p><p>It was foolish to get closer. To poke and prod at Dimitri’s brain until a light of remembrance finally dawned in his blue, blue eyes. But he felt – drawn, to Dimitri. His chest flooded with unreasonable and uncontrollable elation whenever the prince spoke to him. To finally meet him, to talk to him, to level with him intellectually during those long nights in the library, catching up on Fódlan’s seemingly endless history. To learn of his thoughts and aspirations, to be recklessly trusted with his dreams for the future, to be trusted at all! Claude couldn’t stop himself from wanting more.</p><p>Dimitri was a good man, from what he knew. Inhumanly strong, a bit gullible, and overly righteous, but so kind. Claude was at first amused by his princely attitude, so different from his childhood gregariousness, but after so long he wanted to peel back that stubborn mask and see the true Dimitri underneath, so much so that he could hardly think about anything else.</p><p>But to do that would be selfish. There was a difference between learning someone’s secrets and learning someone’s heart. How could he ask Dimitri to do such a thing, to place so much faith in him, when Claude was not willing to do the same? The idea of simply telling Dimitri his own name filled him with an all-encompassing fear.</p><p>He couldn’t stop himself, though. He’d gotten attached. His mere fondness and familiarity for the prince had altered over time, and suddenly it was clear to him that how he perceived Dimitri was entirely different than when they’d first met. He’d started wanting things, things that he shouldn’t have. He wanted to be around the boy at all times. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to hold him, to be held by him. He wanted <em> Dimitri. </em></p><p>And, for some insane reason, Claude wanted to share with him his own dream.</p><p>For so long he resisted, refusing to give in to this innate desire, even as they grew closer. He’d been steadfast, even when Dimitri had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the library, and when Dimitri had single-handedly lifted a fully grown injured wyvern onto a carriage, and when they’d sparred together so intensely, and when the prince had praised him so genuinely that it caught him completely off guard when Claude had won the bow tournament, and when Dimitri had given Claude his cloak as they’d gazed at the stars together on a chilly Autumn night, and when Dimitri had laughed in near hysteria as he held Claude tight when they’d gone for a flight on his wyvern together…</p><p>He almost cracked, almost gave in, when Dimitri had agreed to dance with him on the night of the ball. The prince had been so upset and reclusive all month, it tore at Claude’s heart. So he offered him a dance, admittedly only in jest, and was stupidly astonished when Dimitri actually agreed.</p><p>The prince was such a terrible dancer. Claude offered to take the lead, but still Dimitri was stepping on his toes, frantically muttering apologies, tripping over his words almost as much as he tripped over his own feet.</p><p>Somehow, Dimitri had a way of being so endearing in every way, and it warmed Claude to his bones, lit a fire in his belly. Combined with being able to wrap an arm around the prince’s waist, hold his hand, keep him close, so close – it was overwhelming. Claude couldn’t handle it, he was going to crack, he was <em> going </em> to do something very stupid.</p><p>So he ran.</p><p>A feeble excuse, a half-assed wink, and Claude fled the scene.</p><p>The world buzzed around him, blurring and swirling. He’d been obvious. He’d been open. He was going to be caught, found, <em> vulnerable, </em>and he’d lose everything. He should flee, he should return to his homeland. But was Almyra even his home anymore? Going back seemed so daunting, now that he’d felt peace of mind, and freedom to interact with others without (much) fear that they wanted to knife him in the back.</p><p>Fódlan was not his home, though. He didn’t know this place, and it was going to catch him off guard, spill his secrets– </p><p>But he was wanted dead in Almyra. No one wanted him. No one loved him. He didn’t belong anywhere, and if he turned back he was going to die just as he was born: an outsider.</p><p><em> Tell him! </em> his heart shrieked incessantly. <em> He will protect you! </em></p><p>Claude wanted to tear his own heart out of his chest, and lock it away some place where it wouldn’t bother him anymore.</p><p>His feet moved without his permission, and he was running away, away from everyone, from everything. Across the bridge, past the cathedral, up the stairs. Slamming the door shut behind him, he finally stopped to gasp for air, closing his eyes in his exhaustion.</p><p>He… needed to calm down. Take a breather. Collect himself once more.</p><p>He hadn’t panicked like this in a while. He supposed Dimitri had that effect on him, bringing up old feelings that he’d closed off. It was like he was nine years old again, waking up in a river, and having no control over where the water decided to toss him next. But he had escaped that river. He survived.</p><p><em> You had help, </em>his heart told him. He ignored it.</p><p>Calming, soothing logic was what he needed right now. He needed to prepare for every possibility. Have a plan B for every plan B. To take advantage of every opportunity, gather every bit of information, lock away every inconsequential emotion. Dimitri was a possible ally in helping him to achieve his goals, but if he continued down this path, then the prince would become nothing more than an obstacle. </p><p>Claude needed to wake up to reality – which was ironic.</p><p>As when he opened his eyes once more, he found himself in dreamland.</p><p>Claude froze in place, his back still leaning against the door as he lost his breath that he’d only just managed to catch. The place he was in was painfully familiar. The round room was dark, lit only by the light of the moon that trickled in over a balcony over on the far end of the room. Ivy crawled across weathered stone walls that were slightly cracked in places (that sure didn't look safe). Though he hadn't seen it for so long, there was no denying that the room was the spitting image of the one he had last seen nearly four years ago.</p><p>It was the tower from his dreams.</p><p>Was he asleep? No, that couldn't be right. He knew he was awake; how he was certain of this, he did not know. It just felt… different, somehow, when he was dreaming.</p><p>The notion that the room wasn't real nagged at him, as if his mind had decided to play tricks on him when he was awake as well. Silly, but not impossible – had someone spiked his food at the ball? No, he'd made sure to eat from the same large platter as everyone else. His drink? No, he never had one, no matter how parched he was after all the dancing.</p><p>Claude took a risk. He stuck out a foot, stepping forward slowly, praying to any god or goddess or whatever would hear him that the floor wouldn't suddenly disappear underneath him.</p><p>The heel of his boot clicked on stone, the ground unquestionably solid beneath his foot.</p><p>It was real, alright.</p><p>He twirled in place, eyeing the door behind him, and yes, he recognised it. What he'd originally believed to be the doorway to a cold, dark, hellish dimension was actually just the path to the stairs he'd taken from the monastery. And inside the monastery was the ballroom, and <em> Dimitri. </em> What a coincidence. Claude normally didn't believe in gods or fate or other such things, but there was certainly something unnerving about this turn of events.</p><p>Where was he exactly? How he'd gotten here was a blur, but he vaguely remembered passing the cathedral…</p><p>The Goddess Tower, perhaps? He always did have a passing interest to explore it, especially since it was considered out of bounds for students. Wait, had he broken into the Goddess Tower without even realising it? He laughed aloud, unable to stop himself – that was a new low, even for him. He could already picture Seteth's disappointed face so clearly, the poor guy.</p><p>Trespassing though he was, Claude stepped further into the room, his curiosity drawing him towards the balcony. The view from it was unsurprisingly not the same as in his dream, that much was for certain. Mountains, valleys and rolling green fields were spread as far as the eye could see, the night sky above so high and far away. Claude had expected it, expected to be able to see the land Fódlan instead of an endless blanket of fluffy white clouds, but an absurd sense of disappointment gripped his heart, regardless. Claude decided to ignore it, choosing rather to admire the view. Fódlan was very different from Almyra, even from above like this. However, it was quite beautiful in its own right, and he felt himself relax under the light of the stars–</p><p>The sound of footsteps echoed through the tower.</p><p>Claude spun around silently to face the door. The noise was quiet, but it was getting louder. Someone was coming up the stairs. Judging by the metallic clanging quality of the steps, the person was wearing armoured shoes. </p><p>Like a Knight of Seiros.</p><p>Wonderful. Just great. He was going to get caught trespassing on holy ground! That was going to be hard to talk his way out of.</p><p>Was there anywhere to hide? No, the room was entirely empty. Could he try to scale the walls? Way too dangerous. Could he hang off the balcony to stay out of sight? Now that was an <em> incredibly </em> dumb idea.</p><p>The footsteps had reached the door. Claude plastered an easy smile on his face, his brain already rifling through several plausible excuses for his presence in the tower when the doorknob twisted, hinges squealing as the door swung open.</p><p>“Claude?”</p><p>His smile fell from his face as his heart shrieked with joy in his chest.</p><p>“...Dimitri?”</p><p>It was none other than the Prince of Faerghus himself that stood in the doorway, blue eyes only on Claude as he crossed the stone floor. “I was worried,” said the man of his dreams, so earnestly, “you seemed upset when you left, earlier. Are you alright?”</p><p>Normally, Claude would play it off. Normally, he’d smile, deflect the question, or lie through his teeth. Claude was good at that, he had learned to be.</p><p>But Dimitri’s blue eyes were already wide, sweeping around the room, drinking in his surroundings. His pink lips parted as he gasped with wonder, and recognition finally entered his gaze when it landed on his company once more. When the prince looked at him, when he really <em> saw </em>him.</p><p>‘Claude’ wasn’t here anymore.</p><p><em> “...Khalid?” </em>he whispered.</p><p>“Sorry, Dimitri,” Khalid responded, trying and failing to give the other a shaky smile. “I didn’t mean to bother you like that.”</p><p>There was deathly silence as Dimitri stared at him, speechless for a time. Both Khalid’s head and heart were silent as well, waiting for the prince to seal his fate.</p><p>“Are…” he started, fumbling for words. “Are you…”</p><p>Khalid almost wanted to close his eyes, just so he’d miss the moment when Dimitri’s look of shock turned to one of fury and betrayal, but he was paralysed. Those blue eyes had taken a hold of him, and he couldn’t look away. The prince found the words he was looking for.</p><p>“...My guardian angel?”</p><p>Huh.</p><p>What.</p><p>An unflattering noise came from Khalid’s throat, not unlike the final keens of a dying whale. He had no idea what emotion it was trying to convey, but Dimitri seemed to take it as a sign to continue.</p><p>“You <em> saved </em> me,” he breathed, stepping forward, <em> closer. </em>“I remember it now. On that horrid day, you came to me in a vision, turned me away from the darkness! How could I have forgotten?” The prince's breaths were coming in short gasps, his increasing adrenaline contagious as Khalid’s heart began jackrabbiting behind his ribcage, begging to be free. “I-I’ve strayed from your ways since then… have you come down from the Heavens to guide me back to the light once more?”</p><p>This conversation had taken a wildly different turn than what Khalid had been expecting. Dimitri thought… he was an <em> angel? </em>Why?! Oh no, the prince looked about ready to drop to his knees and start worshipping him. Khalid should say something. Anything! So long as it stopped the prince from looking at him like that, with that wonder and awe he didn’t deserve, as if Khalid was some kind of celestial being.</p><p>“I… no, I– don’t kneel, Dimitri!” He grabbed the prince’s arm to prevent him from lowering himself any further. The prince froze in place, his knees slightly bent. “I’m not an angel! I’m <em> human, </em>like you. Not some messenger of the goddess, or anything.”</p><p>Dimitri was slack jawed, a heavy flush coating his cheeks. Whether that was from embarrassment or adrenaline, Khalid didn’t know. “But–” Dimitri straightened his legs, springing back to his full height, placing his hand over Khalid’s where it touched his arm– “but how? What gave you the power to enter my dreams, if not the Goddess?”</p><p>Khalid balked slightly. “I-I don’t know! I always thought <em> you </em> were the one visiting <em> me </em>whenever I was in danger!”</p><p>Dimitri stilled, his face falling. “When you were in danger?” he asked quietly. “What do you mean by that?”</p><p>Oh, geez. He just had to mention that, didn’t he. “You said I saved you, and maybe I did. But, you know, you already got me out of two pretty bad situations before that. If you hadn’t been there to wake me up, well…” Khalid shrugged at him, watching as the movement sparked a dawning horror in the prince’s eyes.</p><p>“But, we were so young!” Dimitri exclaimed, his expression slightly hazy as he remembered something far in his past. “I’m so sorry, Cl– Khalid. I never realised, even after all this time...” Why did the prince look so sad? Khalid had been trying to make him feel better, and give him something to be proud about.</p><p>“Why are you sorry?” Khalid asked, bemused. “Honestly, I should be thanking you! You saved my life – twice, even. So stop with the puppy dog eyes, already.”</p><p>Dimitri only looked confused (mouthing the word <em> “puppy?” </em>to himself) and seemed no less upset than before. He bowed his head to him, his voice drenched with shame. “I didn’t remember you, even though I was there for such a traumatic moment in your life. You have every right to be angry with me, after all you’ve been through.”</p><p>“I–” What was he even saying?! “I’m not <em> angry </em>with you, Dimitri!”</p><p>The prince didn’t look convinced. “You were, at the ball. I upset you, didn’t I?”</p><p>The words shot through him like an arrow to the chest. “What? No, I was just–” <em> Scared. Cowardly. Selfish– </em>“feeling a bit tired, what with all that dancing.” Dimitri clearly didn’t believe him, his mouth twisting with shame. Khalid wanted to wipe that frown off his face. “Look, Dimitri, it wasn’t your fault. That was on me–”</p><p>“No,” Dimitri cut him off, his face stern. “I have wronged you, Khalid. You were afraid to approach me about our past together. I’ve treated you like a stranger.” His eyes fell from Khalid’s face, dropping to the stone floor. “It hurts, to be forgotten. I… know the feeling.”</p><p>“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Khalid tried to reason with him, “I’m the one who didn’t tell you–”</p><p>“Your name.”</p><p>Khalid’s blood turned to ice within his veins. On instinct, a smile stretched across his face, fake and shaky and horrific, in a last ditch attempt to hide his true self. “Yeah? What about it?” His casual attitude was about as natural as a flying pig.</p><p>Dimitri’s hand was still placed over his own, the prince’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. Even so, his words felt like knives.</p><p>“It’s not from Fódlan, is it? And neither are you.”</p><p>There it was. His death sentence. Khalid had been a fool to think for even a second that Dimitri wouldn’t mention it.</p><p>He didn’t answer the prince’s question. To do so would damn him, whether he was truthful or not.</p><p>Dimitri continued to caress his hand. He looked regretful, and filled the silence where Khalid did not. “You never told me where you came from.” A pause. All was still besides the prince’s thumb. “From what I remember, it sounds like a wonderful place. I had originally assumed it to be Heaven itself until today, when you informed me that you weren’t from there.”</p><p>Almyra? Heaven? What a funny thought.</p><p>“Khalid, I–” his hand was lifted from Dimitri’s arm, held gently and warmly between both of the prince’s hands– “I won’t ask you where you’re from. But I want you to know that I would never <em> dare </em> to tell anyone about this. You’re my old friend. My… my guardian angel. I would do anything to keep you safe, anything to make you happy.”</p><p>His words, they sounded so sincere. Dimitri always sounded sincere. Honest. Trusting. So easy to trust in return. But should he be trusted? Would Dimitri aid him in his trials, be there for him when he needed him? Would he offer his hand across the border, break down the walls around each of their respective countries?</p><p><em> 'Anything to make you happy.' </em>That's what he'd said.</p><p>“Do you mean that?” Khalid asked, his voice sounding so very far away.</p><p>Strong arms wrapped around him, Dimitri dropping his hand in favour of hugging Khalid close to his body. “I swear it on my father’s grave,” he whispered, his soft tone a stark contrast to his ominous words. His blue eyes were locked with his own, long eyelashes fluttering, mere centimetres from his face. “I will never tell a soul.” As close as he was, his quiet voice sang through Khalid’s skull.</p><p>He should smile, his brain tells him, and thank the prince. He should diffuse the situation, exit the tower, and flee from Fódlan. He should not take this risk, not allow himself to trust someone else with his own wellbeing. His cover was blown, and to stay here would be foolhardy.</p><p>Oh, he was so beautiful.</p><p><em> Trust him! </em> his heart screamed. <em> Stay! </em></p><p>Khalid listened to it, for the first time in a very long time.</p><p>“Almyra,” he whispered against pink lips. "I'm from Almyra."</p><p>Then he leaned forward, and kissed the man of his dreams.</p><p>Warmth flooded his body, his heart bursting within his chest, finally satisfied. His hands raised on their own accord to wrap around Dimitri’s neck, and one of them buried itself within his soft, sandy hair, causing the prince to shudder against him. Dimitri’s hands responded in kind by sliding up his back, the tingles up his spine causing Khalid to arch into the prince. His lips were so warm, so soft, and pressed against his own so sweetly, their mouths moulding together in a way that Khalid could only describe as perfect.</p><p>Everywhere Dimitri touched burned with an enlightening blaze, a shiver running through him when a hand tangled through his curls, stroking his hair. His head was lighter than air, his blood was singing in his ears, he felt like he could fly right off the balcony and up into the starry sky. At the same time his knees felt weak, liable to collapse underneath him, and all Khalid wanted was to fall into Dimitri, have the prince fall with him, and they could fall, fall together.</p><p>Khalid eventually pulled away, reluctant to end such bliss. Dimitri moved with him, eager to continue, and Khalid stopped him by cupping his palm against the prince’s cheek with a small chuckle. Dimitri leaned into the touch, long eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks.</p><p>“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Khalid whispered, a secret for Dimitri’s ears only, free of charge.</p><p>“You are certain that you are no angel?” the prince murmured back, dark eyes sparkling with wonder. “Sent to me by the Goddess Herself?”</p><p>Khalid chuckled, placing a small peck on those pink lips. “It wasn’t the goddess that brought me here, no.”</p><p>A sigh of contentment left Dimitri. “No? Was it simply fate, perhaps, that we would meet here?”</p><p>He hummed, pretending to think it over. “A good guess, but not what I was thinking.”</p><p>A short kiss was taken from him, given to him, before Dimitri pulled away again. “And what is that beautiful mind of yours thinking?”</p><p>The compliment, earnest as always, made Khalid flush, and he laughed to hide the rush of warmth that made him feel light and giddy. He pulled Dimitri down by the back of his neck, lightly pressing their foreheads together, breathing in the other’s air.</p><p>The future was uncertain for the both of them, but they each had goals to strive for, a purpose in life. Khalid was starting to believe that they could achieve whatever they put their mind to, so long as they were standing together, side by side. And hand in hand.</p><p>“Our dreams,” Khalid answered, holding Dimitri close. “Our dreams were what brought us together.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and then they hug each other for the rest of eternity.<br/>here i am, sitting back, watching Claude wax poetic about Dimitri for thousands of words and then being surprised when Dimitri does it back like come on man<br/>Fun Fact: the word 'dream' (and its slight variations) was mentioned 39 times in this fic<br/>41 if you count the title<br/>I'm sorry! I'm not subtle at all!</p><p>Catch me on twitter... <a href="https://twitter.com/Quiverquill1">@Quiverquill1</a> if ur interested</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>